Promises

I don't typically read the Daily Bread, but for some reason, I happened to grab one at the start of Summer and I read way ahead.  Cause that's how I roll.  (I also read the last page of every book.) Apparently, I'd ripped out a page I liked, and stuck it in the front of my bible.  Then I promptly forgot all about it.

Last weekend was excruciating for me on nearly every level.  I also felt like I'd been given a specific encouragement in the form of a piece- no, a chunk, of hope, only to have God snatch it right out of my hands days later and stomp all over it. (Which I'm sure He didn't actually do.  I'm just saying what it felt like.) I was crushed, absolutely broken-hearted, and then to be perfectly honest, I got good and mad at Him. I think, (and I cringe right about here, but I'm keeping it real) I even told Adrain that I was "really pissed off at God."

 Anyhow, as we were heading home from church that night, I sat grinding my teeth in irritation.  Then, I flipped the cover of my bible open, looking for a scrap of paper for my grocery list, cause I'd had enough.  The torn-out page (from the upcoming August 21st daily bread) was staring right at me.  I quickly skimmed through it, only to stop and re-read the whole thing very slowly, as it whispered directly into my situation. Here's a portion of it:

"Have you ever felt that God doesn't keep His promises?... After God promised Abraham, "I will make you a great nation" 25 years elapsed before the birth of his son Isaac.... Through the ups and downs, God kept reminding Abraham of His promise to give him a child, while urging him to walk faithfully with Him and believe. When we claim one of God's promises in the Bible, whether it is for peace of mind, courage or provision of our needs, we place ourselves in His hands and on His schedule.  As we wait, it may at times seem as if the Lord has forgotten us. But trust embraces the reality that when we stand on a promise of God, He remains faithful.  The assurance is in our hearts, and the timing is in His hands."

  
I wait and it feels like my prayers are going no higher than the ceiling.  I force myself to practice faith that endures.  When my resolve crumbles into tiny pieces of despair, I'll remember that what I feel isn't always what I know.  So far, it hasn't been easy and I still don't know the outcomes of my situations- or if there even are any "outcomes" at this point.  But I'm going to hold on to His faithfulness- even when it  feels like He's not, and the assumed absence just about breaks my heart.

Are you waiting on something from God and feel like he might have forgotten about you?  I know He has not, nor will He ever forget about you! 

Hold on, and be encouraged.  You aren't alone!

Revenge of the Killer Tomatoes.

I'll get to my post in a second, but I have to tell you that our "For Sale" sign was graffitied.  (Is that a word?  I think I just made it up.  I guess I should have typed "vandalized by graffiti.") Weirdo punks scrawled the word, "Only" on it, using purple paint. (Absolutely no idea what "only" meant.)  But.. they messed with the wrong man, cause Adrain whipped out his anti graffiti wipe kit and rubber gloves, and had it cleaned off in a jiffy.  (Like, uh, for reals.)  And don't even ask me about the graffiti kit.  You really don't want to know.  Suffice it to say, neighbors were slowing as they passed in order to see our little freak show better.  Picture Adrain gloved up and cleaning, with me, rolling across the front lawn clutching my belly with spasms of uncontrollable laughter.  

My husband has an anti graffiti kit.  

In case you missed it the first time.  

I love that man. 

And now we begin. You know you have social life issues when the one thing you are looking forward to most in the whole world, is the upcoming 75th birthday of your husband's grandmother.  I mean, she's a wonderful woman, so that's not the issue.  It's just that it's the only celebratory event on my horizon for the next 5 months.  Until Thanksgiving, that is. Methinks I need to get over to the senior center and meet some peeps so I have a few more celebrations on my calendar this Summer. Ha! 

 

 That may seem in no way connected with what I'm about to say.  But if you've been reading LMM long enough, you know it's always connected.... which may or may not seem odd to you. 

You know how in a horror movie, you see all the mistakes the idiot girl makes?  You find yourself screaming, "Don't go into the garage, alone at night after that creepy phone call!  If the light switch suddenly isn't working, go back inside and lock every door!  Better yet, get in your car and race away, while simultaneously calling 911!  RUN idiot girl!"  You know?  Or is that just me?  Well here's where I'm going with that.  Call me "idiot girl."  Do it.  Do y'all remember the 8,000 pound harvest of tomatoes from last summer?  Okay, that's exaggerating, and if I'm going to tell this story, I need to stick to the facts right?  It wasn't 8,000 tomatoes- it ended the season being right around a horrific 300 lbs.  (In a creepy garage, alone at night, with no power.) And guess what?  It felt like 8,000.  Well anyway, remember that?  We threw so many rotten tomatoes into the composter because we just couldn't keep up.  (Mistake number 1.) Then we had this great idea to put that very same compost into one of our four garden boxes since we only needed to use three. (Mistake number 2.) We spread that compost around and then turned our backs on it. (Mistake number 3.) After a month of near constant rain, we discovered millions of tiny green "weedlings" growing.  But we didn't do anything about it, (Mistake number 4.) because after all, weedlings are kind of cute.  And potential home buyers might think we just planted something in there and say, "Awww, how nice... a garden..." 

My children came running up to me the other day and breathlessly panted, "Mama, Mama!  Come quick!  The killer tomatoes are back and they have machetes!"  (Okay, I added that part.) There, in my very own fourth garden box... are 8,000 revenge-seeking tomato plants.  It's like they won't die.  They are the tomatoes from hell.  

 

And you know what?  Just out of curiosity (and sheer boredom) I want to see what happens, so I don't really plan on doing anything about it. 

 (Final mistake?)

There's a lot of yellow blossoms in that patch... I just hope I live through this and make it to the party.  

Wish me luck.

(Cue horror music.)

What I know for sure.

You read my title?  Yeah. This is going to be a very short post.  It still blows my mind that you people keep coming back to see what I have to say.  (I haven't scared you off yet?  Crazy.)

What I know for sure: My friends encourage me to steal.  This baby succulent was pinched from a restaurant centerpiece, wrapped in a wet napkin, and smuggled out in my purse pocket, all at the urging of my friends.  The same friends who forced me to steal driftwood.  And I don't even feel bad. (Erin, I miss you.)

What I know for sure: All the clever, fun, veggie animals in the world won't entice my hoodlums to eat, well... veggies. Or hummus.

What I know for sure: The best place to make ten dollars stretch, and bring color into your world (since black is off limits while you try to lift your own spirits) is the local consignment store.

What I know for sure: I distress things.

I do try to limit it to furniture, however. 

Don't ask around on that one.

Thanks.

Trying to change the world, one glass of lemonade at a time. Literally.

My daughter, bless her little heart, just had her first lemonade stand.  She sat at her table, swinging her feet and waiting for over an hour, while car after car passed her by.  (Mama was her first and only customer that entire hour.)  She smiled and waved at every car, only to have each driver pass without even a glance in her direction! It made the 'ol Mama bear in me kind of irritated, to be honest.  I mean she was so cute and eager.  And it was hot.  And she had ice.  (And shamefully, frozen lemonade concentrate.  I know.. please don't disown me.)

At some point, you just start drinking your own lemonade, you know?

It was about this time, that I began texting my posse... Desperate times-desperate measures. 

I happened to be hosting a mini moving sale that same afternoon, and as soon as it began, my friends began buying up glass after glass, making my baby happy.

I love my friends. Ava loved my friends. Thank you friends.

I realized one very important thing. You can lead people to the lemonade, but you can't make 'em drink.

Especially if it came from a frozen can.

Why I love Ikea.

If I had the capacity to post photos about "Why I love Ikea" without commentary, I would.  (This post is for my sis-in-law, because she wanted to see the bedding I recently picked out for Ava's new twin-sized bed.) I think we've already established the fact that I just can't bring myself to do that.  I admire those of you who can.  I've never been good at moments of silence.  They elude me. 

In fact, back in school, teachers despised me because I was a constant disturber of the peace.  They were always writing my name on the chalkboard and putting checks after it. I mean, seriously, did they want me to think, "Oooohhh a check...It's all over but the cryin' now?"  It was check for heaven's sake. I was six.  It didn't phase me.  Or shut me up.  Not really the outcome they were seeking.

I remember the time I got three checks after my name because I couldn't quit talking to my neighbor.  Scary. (Yes, that was dripping with sarcasm.)

I had stuff to say.  School was interrupting me. Not much has changed.

Lastly, and this has nothing to do with my post, except the fact that I'm here to prove (mainly to myself) that it really is kind of nice to dress in something other than black yoga pants or your husband's clothing, which hangs to your knees.  I love this casual white top, paired with my favorite faded, ripped up jeans. I doubt I'll ever be able to do a "What I wore post" like Lindsey from the Pleated Poppy... but if I can come up with one really cute outfit a week, that's a start!

I rememembered that I forgot, that I hate sewing.

This may surprise you a little bit, but I tend to throw myself passionately into my projects. (snicker) I was going to wait til next week, but I actually had a day with nothing planned, and thought, "Why put off til tomorrow, what I can tackle today?"  I'd like to title this one, "Keeping it real."I'd also like to point out, that it was right around this part of the project, that I declared how much I hated sewing and banished everyone from the house, including the neighborhood children who come over around snack time every day.  I'd like to say that I was nice about it too- but I'm not usually a liar. 

Have I ever mentioned that I detest making slipcovers?  I mean, I really loathe it. I always forget that I feel like that, until I'm about half way through.  I've made a few of them in my day.  Five to be exact.  Two were for couches about a week before I gave birth to my first child, and the other three were for this chair.  Pay careful attention to the loose fabric under the arm...

It's like magic isn't it?  Want to know my little secret?

These upholstery pins.  (You can purchase them at the fabric store, located in the upholstery aisle.) They look menacing, but once in, you can hardly find them. They do a great job of shaping and holding fabric in place.

See what I mean? Just blends right in.

This next series of photos works a little like time-lapse photography. However, I'd like you to please keep in mind that there were blood, sweat, and tears behind each photo.  And chocolate.  I admit, (shamefully) that there was chocolate. 

Imagine elevator music playing...

Now imagine me, collapsing on the floor, and begging my family for a drink with an umbrella in it. 

For some reason, they all ignored me. 

 (Me, pretending to be Scarlett O'Hara) "With God as my witness, I'll never sew anything else as long as I live!" (...she raises fist into the air...)

A Tale of Two Tables.

It was the best of times.  It was the worst of times.

Okay I'm just kidding... it was actually a pretty good day.  I listed my old kitchen table on Craig's list because it was big.  We're talking ten-people-with-the-leaf-in, big.  I needed smaller.  Like, 960-square-foot-house-size, smaller to be exact.  I found a pedestal table that I really liked at Ikea for $250.00.  But let's just be honest here.  Ikea is a great place for accessories, futons, first-time furniture purchases, and kid zoned areas, while not so much a great place, for quality, well-made, wooden tables that will stand up to homeschooling, science projects, pie making, and the like.  (Not that I'd ever dis Ikea.  Cause I happen to love it there.)

My table, once listed, sold for an amount I thought I'd never get, almost immediately.  As I talked with the woman purchasing my table, she told me about her table.  It happened to be a round pedestal table, with a leaf, made of solid oak.  Pretty much exactly what I was looking for.  She wanted $75.00 for it.  I figured that was a total steal considering what she paid me for my table.

However, the night my husband was to pick it up, she called and started in with a story that sounded shady from the start.  She was explaining how she had been cleaning it and a small crack had "suddenly happened" in the base, etc. I'd gotten so excited over the possibilities of sanding down her table, and painting it white, all for $75.00, that I was really disappointed!  I mean for heaven's sake, where else was I going to find that kind of deal? 

Later, that night, I sat down to watch the movie, Food Inc. with my man, (which is an entire other post all on it's own, for another day) and I found myself literally feeling angry- over a table, of all things!  Ridiculous, when you stop and consider that over half the world doesn't even get to eat their meals sitting at a table.  So, after considerable moping on my part, (which I'm not proud of, by the way) I came to realize that I was pining away for the "afternoon in the backyard" when in fact, there might be "a trip to the zoo" opportunity here.  (You may remember when Adrain used that analogy on me last month- I didn't like it very much at the time, but I'm learning to accept it.)  After a little self-scolding, I decided I needed to quit being angry over a table and let go and give this tiny detail over to God.  So I did.  I relaxed.  (Well, I mean, I relaxed as much as a person can relax when they are watching live footage of chicken houses, and corn fed cattle being butchered and processed.) 

At bedtime, I said a little prayer asking God for a table, (I know, it sounds ridiculous, but I'm just being honest) and decided to check out tables one last time, on Craig's list....  Guess what?  (You already know, don't you?)  I found the exact table I had been looking for, only this one happened to be listed at a mere $40.00.  We got it the next day.

And now it's all mine. My darling man sanded and painted and I dutifully cheered him on and gave him bites of chocolate and popsickles.  (Just doing my job.)  I did ask him if he'd like my help, or if he'd just rather me sit and look pretty.  He didn't seem to want my help, and I didn't fight that. I adore this table and it's price tag. I have Pottery Barn taste, but a garage sale budget.  We (as in Adrain) still have plans to gently distress it.  I'm learning to take the zoo option over the backyard, any day of the week, because God actually does care about the little things (like tables) in our lives. Did also I mention that I'm a slow learner?

**Oh, and my word of advice on painting wood, (since you asked the other day) is sand it really well!  If at all possible, take it down to the bare wood. Wipe it off with a wet cloth and let if dry completely.  Then, prime it with minimum of one coat, paint it with two coats, and if you distress it by sanding it here and there, put a coat of polyurethane over that unless it's not a high traffic item.  Make sure your paint is completely dry before moving to the next coat.  And if you plan to polyurethane over the finished coat, wait at least a week for the paint to fully cure. That's my man's tip right there, and you can trust him.  He doles out this advice for a living, and you got it for free. Lucky you. (Wink)**

What if one thing leads to another?

I've been nesting lately.  Which is weird, since I'm not actually pregnant.  Must be due to having our home on the market, finding the house of our dreams, and selling half our possessions on Craig's list during this whole downsizing process.

Whatever it is, I've been painting furniture white, all over the place.  I sold my two matching side tables.  (This photo was taken before I did that.)  You can't really see it way over in the corner.  But I had two of them. They were thick, dark, heavy things.  My man loved them.  He's having a moment of silence right now.

 And after they were gone, I moved this table in between my two club chairs because I love this table.  It was formerly in my bedroom.  (see below photo)

 But it's huge and it's in a better place now. (No need for a moment of silence from me.)

This kitchen table got a new home...

And while I keep you in suspense about the craziest Craig's list story ever, here is the temporary, make-shift table in it's place.  (I can't wait to show you what's coming soon!!)

That table used to sit here, in the classroom. And since I moved it to the kitchen while I work on my new table.  I had to find something for this spot.

So I moved this chair here, but I plan to slip cover it in the darling stripe sitting on the arm, next week- maybe. (If I can find the time) It used to fill a space in my bedroom corner.

 That meant, that I now had to fill this space in my bedroom.  I ended up dragging a big black dresser (sorry I have no before photo) out of my closet, and parked it here.  (The artwork above it, is actually a canvas that I painted, and then adhered my customized  prize from a giveaway to!  I couldn't love it more!  If you want your own vinyl wall graphics, visit Leen the Graphics Queen.)  Anyway, my dresser begged for white paint.  So I painted. And I distressed.  And fell in love all over again, with it.  Which got me to thinking that my coffee table should actually be white too.

This post is beginning to read like a Laura Numeroff book.  My husband curled up in the fetal position as I was doing this. Don't tell him I told you...  Okay, so he didn't do that, but it was touch and go there, for a few hours.  He loves wood.  I don't.  We get together and opposites attract....  (Great, I'm going to be singing Paula Abdul all day long now.)

 If you're like me, you need to compare.  This is before. 

This is after. 

I like to call this one "Sexy coffee table shot."

That is all.
Thank you and good night.